


Murder in Pink Satin

by subtextual



Series: Kinky Murder Sex 'Verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Difference, All the Sin, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, Blood Kink, Blood Play, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Bottom Dean, Butt Plugs, Castiel is one scary motherfucker, Chastity Device, Cock Warming, Coercion, Come Eating, Comeplay, Coming Untouched, Coming Untouhed, Conditioning, Dark, Dark Castiel, Dean and Castiel are seriously fucked up, Dean in Panties, Dean is sixteen, Dildos, Dirty Talk, Dom Castiel, Dubious Consent, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Exhibitionism, Explicit Sexual Content, Face-Fucking, Gaslighting, Horror, Humiliation, Jock Dean, M/M, Manipulation, Masturbation, Milking, Minor Character Death, Nipple Play, Obsession, Older Castiel, Orgasm Denial, Panties, Porn With Plot, Possessive Behavior, Praise Kink, Psychological Horror, Psychological Mind Fuck, Public Sex, Riding, Romance, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Smut, Spanking, Sub Dean, Teacher-Student Relationship, Top Castiel, Torture, Training, Twink Dean, Underage Sex, Violence, Voice Kink, Younger Dean, pain play, this story is basically dark smutty trash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-07-14 17:07:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7181738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subtextual/pseuds/subtextual
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the moment Dean Winchester meets his English teacher he knows he is fucked.  And he is not so sure if it’s in the fun way. One thing is for sure- it’s so much less complicated in the pornos.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Murder in Pink Satin

**Author's Note:**

> This story is about a hundred different kinds of fucked up. I warned for pretty much everything in the tags, but to summarize... 
> 
> Dean and Castiel begin a relationship with an eighteen year age difference. In the beginning Dean is sixteen. There is lots of underage sex and not a lot of morals involved. 
> 
> Castiel kills people. He kills lots of people and, especially, those that Dean is attracted to. His emotions turn on and off depending on when they are convenient. He will torture someone without blinking an eye, and enjoy it.
> 
> Dean isn’t exactly innocent himself. Though he does feel guilt at first and is being manipulated he reaches a point where he does not care if people die or not. In the end he’s not the victim. 
> 
> **I would like to note this is neither a safe or healthy portrayal of BDSM. There will be some aftercare involved but ultimately Castiel is using BDSM to train Dean and that is not a sign of a good, functioning relationship. Everything is not discussed in detail and Dean's submissive nature is used against him.
> 
> Enjoy!

☠ Murder in Pink Satin ☠

_Ch 1- Beg For It_

* * *

Mr. Novak is going on at length about _Crime and Punishment_ and the themes of law and justice throughout Tolsky’s work. Like always Dean isn’t paying attention. Instead he is screwing around with his pencil, turning it and flipping it between his fingers. After all that is far more interesting then freakin’ English. ‘Sides he read the book once, just curious about the newest heavy book his thirteen year old brother dragged home. More then anything he hated it because of how much he related to the main character, and that guy had been a total self loathing asshole. At some point Dean’s pencil dropped from his hand and since his teacher’s on a long boring lecture he figures no one will notice if he bends to get his pencil.

Damn it.

It rolled across the floor, to where Dean would have to literally crawl under the desk to get it. Wouldn’t be so bad if he was in the fourth or fifth row maintaining some form of subtle but damn it he’s in the first because of ‘I hope this will help you concentrate, Dean’ and the asshole authority he carried being his teacher. Reluctantly he is moving from the desk which gets the attention of the whole class, ‘course.

“What are you doing?” The voice is rough and dark, like he ate a bowl full of glass and nails for breakfast. Even turned around Dean can feel that intense stare. Gunmetal blue pinned to the back of him.

Instead of answering Dean continues on his knees to get his fucking pencil that started all of this and probably alerted the entire class. Just as he sees it- a worn number two, the pink nub of an eraser chewed on from boredom - he arched forward to grab it. There’s a sharp intake of breath. Dean doesn’t think anything of it.

And why would he? He hasn’t worn boxers since he discovered how good the fabric feels against his skin. How awesome it is to just sit in class with his cock trapped. The thrill of going to practice with pretty underwear on beneath his jersey and pants. Of course Dean wouldn’t remember that other people could see his panties. It was his secret. No one would ever find out.

As Dean stands victoriously with the pencil gripped in his hands he realizes that he is totally fucking wrong. The look his teacher gives him is difficult to place, a range of facial expressions that just wouldn’t be there on a thirty somethin’ year old English teacher. Mr. Novak’s eyes are blown wide with a black-blue flame lit. “See me after class, Mr. Winchester,” he commanded.

Oh, fuck. Dean’s completely fucked. And it’s probably not gonna be in the fun way.

* * *

Ten minutes later the bell rang and the class rushes out. Everyone had heard the clear order in Mr. Novak’s voice, and from past experience no one wants to be there to experience it if they do not have to. Dean understood, even if as his friend Ash passes him with a wince he mouthed that he was a fucking dick. In other classes when he got in trouble he usually has a friend there to stick around. Nobody wants to confront their English teacher though. Dude might be nerdy but he exerts this quiet authority, this power like he would literally fuck any student’s world up if they so much as dared interrupt his lecture. Safe to say Dean found it hot. Scary, but hot.

So it’s only Dean and the teacher he’s had a crush on since Mr. Novak gave him detention his first day of class for being late. Between them is something not like the companionship of a mentor. The energy is charged. And yeah, the fact his god damn teacher saw the lace band of his panties.

As the teen watched the tick of the glossy clock change from three-thirty to three-thirty one he decides, _fuck it._

“You wanted to see me, sir?” The word is not a second thought. It is a compliance to the beginning of the year, when Mr. Novak demanded that every student refer to him by his last name or sir as a proper form of respect. Everyone thought he was bullshitting but that train of thought booked it when each grade was docked under _behavior in class_ ten percent. It soon became clear that not only was their teacher a hard ass, but he gave no mercy.

The smile the man wore was pleased, Dean could see it in the curl of his lips. Mr. Novak’s eyes though- they still haven’t changed. Other then using a term like lust, which he couldn’t apply no matter how much he wanted to, it was downright predatory. None of that made sense though. Disgusted, maybe. Accusing? Ordering Dean to inform him of why he enjoys wearing woman’s underwear?

His teacher moved from his desk with purpose, walking past him towards the door where he abruptly locked it. Now Dean is... confused to say the least. It’s weird. It’s all so fucking crazy-ass weird. Biting down hard on his tongue he tried to ignore how his heart picked up. Mr. Novak still hasn’t said a word. Instead he took off his beige trench coat before folding his arms. By now he has crossed over the room back to the front. His stare is expectant and capturing. It holds Dean’s attention for so long that he doesn’t even recognize the sound of himself talking, rambling out some stupid apology.

Waving a hand Mr. Novak dismisses it all and Dean fell silent. “Strip.” It is said so normally and casually, though not without passion. The words fall between them for several moments, and he has no clue what to say. Not one. His teacher’s lips are a firm line.

Dean sure as hell doesn’t react to it like he would any other order in class. His cock gives an interested twitch, and he feels like he could wet his panties from precome alone at just a god damn word. Strip. Strip. Strip. Oh, fuck. Half ready to do just that Dean only stopped when he realized just where he was. Surely he heard him wrong. “Uh, I can’t hear you sir,” he apologized, and hated how red the back of his neck got. It wasn’t a full body blush at all, but it was still a dangerous one.

Blue eyes blink once and the way Mr. Novak’s nostrils flare is telling in ways he never expected. Frustrated. He’s frustrated. But for what? Dean forced himself to look his teacher over entirely. He didn’t like doing it, didn’t like looking at the gorgeous older man any more then he had to. It wasn’t even his sharp jawline, or the dark mess of hair that always reminded him of sex. As Dean’s eyes drag down he gave himself one quick glance at his groin.

Holy shit. Not only was his teacher huge, but the bulge in his black slacks was so fucking obvious. It finally clicked for Dean like the last puzzle piece. He was turned on. Mr. Novak was really, really turned on.

“Strip, Mr. Winchester,” the man growled out. “I will not ask you again.”

It should make him feel gross and taken advantage of. It doesn’t. Instead Dean holds back a moan as he frantically threw off his letterman jacket. He’s working on his shirt and about to unbutton his jeans when all of a sudden he is pushed down onto a desk.

“You are far too slow,” Mr. Novak hummed and pulled down his jeans in one quick yank. Immediately Dean felt the cool of the air conditioner on his thighs, his legs. Anywhere that is exposed by the pink panties he wore. It’s a freaky sensation combined with how hot his face is. But in the most awesome way.

Though Dean has no fucking clue what his teacher is going to do, that’s probably at least half the excitement for him. If Mr. Novak simply got out his cock and pounded Dean’s ass, or if he took him apart with those long fingers... Neither is done. Maybe he had too high of hopes. Maybe the man just wanted to look, but was afraid to actually do anything. Didn’t wanna cross so many lines.

His face is flat against the desk and Mr. Novak’s hand is still shoved roughly in his hair as he is held down. Dean wanted to open his mouth to explain that he doesn’t need to be held down, but he has always wondered what it would be like to be manhandled by his teacher. Since he’s already going to Hell he has gotta at least enjoy the ride.

Once again Dean feels eyes on him. They are heavy like the fifty pound weights he lifted this morning in the school gym. He stared at the wooden texture then shivered when his jeans are dropped completely. Shit, it’s like his heart is caught in his throat. From his position he can see some kid’s initials carved into one of the desks. It looks old and faded, probably from before Mr. Novak even started teaching.

The quiet assessment began to make Dean feel embarrassed. It’s been almost five or so minutes of him bent over, wearing a stretched out grungy AC/DC shirt and some tiny underwear. The teen is certain Mr. Novak can see his practically naked ass. Not entirely sure if he is allowed to talk he let out a quiet whimper that is shushed before it can even end. Rough fingers are released from his hair. “Go to the front of the room, _Dean.”_

Fuck. His name shouldn’t be so hot. But it is, it freakin’ is, and it’s intimate in ways he never would even think of. “Yes, sir.”

Heart slamming hard in his chest and his dick near painful in the scrap of pink lace Dean wore he walked to the front of the classroom. Mr. Novak looked expectant with his arms crossed over his chest. At some point he had rolled up the sleeves of his white button down to reveal muscular forearms. Mostly he is focused on those eyes, dark and lethal in a blue that reminded him of endless fire. He felt he had to focus on those, let them warm him to the otherwise cool of the air conditioner. Never before had he been more exposed.

Looking down at the floor he stared at the black and white tile. It’s not often he goes to the front of the classroom. The last time was about a month ago, when they had to do PowerPoint presentations on a book of their choosing. It had been one of the only projects Dean ever had gotten an A on. The rapture and love he felt for Kurt Vonnegut’s _Slaughterhouse-Five_ fell from his lips with ease that day. His teacher had seemed so proud too, had praised him with his eyes and voice on the clear passion Dean felt.

It was almost like that day now as he took to breaking his gaze from the floor to stare at Mr. Novak for further instruction. The only difference was the lack of surrounding students. He wasn’t talking about Vonnegut anymore, but the praise was still there.

“Such a good boy,” his teacher cooed as he stood on display for him. “Turn. I want to see your pretty, pretty ass.”

Dean’s mortified and his face showed it as he burned red. Without saying anything he moved to face the direction of the whiteboard. From up close he can read Mr. Novak’s handwriting- it’s an elegant cursive that reads out the assignment for the night. It occurred to him he had never written it down.

A groan cut through his thoughts. It’s low and hot, absolute filth that shouldn’t be possible in a god damn classroom. Holy shit. Is... is his teacher jacking off? When he spoke next his voice is cracked. “Can I turn around now?”

“Not yet.” A pant. “Fuck, you are so gorgeous. How often do you wear your panties, Dean? How often do you sit in class like a dirty little slut wearing them?” Mr. Novak growled out.

It’s completely unexpected and Dean nearly came right then and there. His teacher, who had always been so strict and proper, was now dirty talking the shit outta him. He swallowed hard. “A- awhile,” he squeaked out and his lashes fluttered as he looked at the floor once more. Normally Dean would hate himself for acting so weak, but right now he couldn’t find it in him to care. He liked this.

“Does it feel good? When the lace rubs against your dick?” The question is breathed out right against his ear. Dean hadn’t even realized that the man had walked over. Now though his presence is obvious. Even if he is taller by a few inches it is like Mr. Novak towers over him. He’s powerful, much more powerful then any high school teacher has a right to be.

Long fingers reach for the lace of the pink panties he wore. With a gasp from Dean one finger is hooked into a bunch of the material and yanks, hard. It’s tight, so tight against his dick and the back of his underwear now riding up his ass. “Tell me how it feels boy,” Mr. Novak ordered.

Oh. Oh fuck. “Awesome,” Dean breathed out as the same finger twisted around the soft fabric. He whined bucking his hips, a little desperately, towards the friction. “Totally awesome.”

Mr. Novak uses his fingers to slide the panties up and down Dean’s cheeks. It’s degrading and embarrassing and it couldn’t be any hotter. A low, dark chuckle escaped his teacher. “Do you think I could fuck you with your own panties, Dean?” He questioned roughly.

His brain short circuited. A hard smack against his ass jerks Dean’s attention back. Yelping at the sting he was about to move his hand back to rub at his cheek when both of his arms were pinned in front of him by one strong hand. “Answer me,” Mr. Novak demanded.

“Yea-yeah,” Dean gasped out. “Please do sir. Oh, fuck...”

The lace and silk fabric is pressed right up against his hole now. With an obscene moan he pushes his ass back. Shit if this doesn’t feel good, the material so soft against his skin. By now his cock is heavy and thick between his legs, leaking. Precome leaves a wet patch at the front of his underwear. Mr. Novak uses one forceful hand to thrust the material into his entrance.

It’s a strange sensation-- relentless in a way Dean hadn’t expected. Though the panties are delicate satin and warm it burns so good against his skin. He can feel the drag of lace across his balls, his lips falling open in a groan. Arching his back he keens in pure fucking pleasure.

“Such a whore. Getting off by me only touching your panties,” his teacher snarled in his ear. Then all of a sudden he felt teeth sinking into the meat of his shoulder and cried out.

The buildup spreads through his thighs until it’s everywhere. For a second Dean tenses as his hole clenched around the fabric. And then he is coming, hard. His cock spurts out in thick, white ropes painting the satin material. There’s a tear on the waistband from where Mr. Novak gripped it. To his complete humiliation his freakin’ come is not only sticky against his legs and underwear but he left a small puddle on the classroom floor. Dean is still high on his orgasm when he is pushed to the floor by a firm hand on the back of his neck.

Blinking he tried to gather why he is now knelt down on the floor. Looking up he stared at where Mr. Novak is standing over him, a smug grin on his face. “Do you see the mess you made?” The man cooed. In those dark blue eyes there is a satisfied glint. He can’t place why.

“I... I’m sorry,” Dean stumbled over his apology as his face heated up. “I didn’t mean to- to---”

“You did not mean to leave come on my floor?” His teacher finished and raised an eyebrow that make him shudder. Reaching out a hand Mr. Novak ran his fingers through Dean’s hair. The action is a gentle one, soothing him in ways he did not even realize he needed. “You are a good boy though. Can you clean it for me, sweetheart?”

Heart jumping in his chest Dean nodded enthusiastically. ‘Course he would. He wants to please Mr. Novak, wants to feel his praise again. Without further instruction he stripped off his band tshirt and bent further down to clean the floor. Right before he could, though, the shirt is taken from him. Shit.

“No,” Mr. Novak snapped. Dean’s shirt is thrown aside and the next thing he knows his ass is being smacked. It fucking stung. The blows keep going one after the other. In the background he can hear the crack of his hand. “You don’t get to use a shirt. You. Were. Bad.” He pronounced each word with another hit. Neither of his cheeks are spared.

At this point he is whining, hating the pain-pleasure of the sting. A few minutes later the smacks start leveling off and his face is shoved against the small pile of come. Swallowing hard Dean slowly stuck out his tongue and let the first drop past his lips. It shouldn’t taste so good. It’s a salty flavor more then anything. Though it’s probably not the taste that makes Dean groan as he bent his head and started to lap at the come. More so then anything it’s how hot it is to be forced to the floor like this. Mr. Novak is making him clean up his own come with his fucking tongue.

“Such a pretty slut. What would your friends think, Dean? If they could see you right now?” His teacher purred. A hand gripped hard in his hair, digging into each strand roughly and pushing him down further on the floor. “But this is where you belong my sweet boy.”

The position he’s in is more then uncomfortable, being bent over the floor in only a pair of soaked panties. Against his thighs and cock the satin material is heavy. Shit he can’t believe he ruined one of his favorite pairs. There’s even a breeze through a hole in them where his teacher fingered him through the underwear too roughly. Dean is about halfway through cleaning up the come when he feels two hands grip his ass. Opening his mouth to speak is weird with the come smeared across his lips but he manages. “Wha-what are you doing?” He questioned in embarrassment. The back of his neck burned a bright red. He can hear his heart slamming hard in his ears.

Wet. It’s wet and sudden. Mr. Novak’s tongue began to lick along his entrance, then another long strip that left him gasping. The sound of being eaten out is just far too damn loud in the quiet of the room. Dean can feel the flat press of his tongue to his hole and, oh fuck. It’s so obscene and dirty and he can’t help but love it. Arching back his ass gets him nothing more then a quick smack that has him howling. “Shit Mr. Novak, please,” he begged. What it’s for he’s not real sure, just that he has to have more. He has to feel his teacher’s tongue buried so deep inside him that it makes his cock hard. He needed to be fucked, and if all he was going to get was a tongue then he didn’t care.

Dean’s cheeks are spread apart so far that he can feel the chill of the air conditioner across his skin. There’s the hot burn from Mr. Novak’s stubble because now he is going at it and his tongue is damn quick. Letting out a pant he can feel his entire body vibrating with pure need. Chest flushed hot Dean can only groan at the pressure building low in his stomach. His teacher sucked and lapped at his hole, digging his nails in to the skin so hard he nearly screamed.

“Does it feel good? Being opened up for my cock?” Mr. Novak breathed in his ear, and before he can say anything teeth are dragged down the shell of his ear. Dean can feel the skin turning pink. “Answer me, boy,” he growled out.

A whimper is dragged out of him when he can feel his teacher’s tongue again. “I- yes sir,” Dean choked out, having a hard time forming a coherent sentence when it felt like his brains were being sucked out through his ass. Though he’s still soft from earlier the effects of being tongue fucked like this are everywhere-- from his shaking hands to how much his thighs tremble.

Small gasps and moans are pulled out of Dean. His heart continues to slam faster and faster as Mr. Novak makes him fall apart. The tongue licking at his hole is relentless and fast. “Fuck,” he gasped. Breath catching in his throat he can hardly even hold his position, bent down on the floor with his ass high in the air. And then all of a sudden he’s empty. Dean whined in frustration, pushing his ass back. “Sir,” he cried out. His face is flushed and he quivers, needing the burn of his teacher’s stubble and the hot wetness of his tongue.

Mr. Novak blew a breath of warm air over his hole that made him shudder. “Just a minute sweetheart...” One finger pushes in between Dean’s cheeks and it’s embarrassing how medical his teacher is about it. “I’m making sure you are open enough,” he hummed as he continues to probe the teen with another finger. The sensation nearly makes him go limp and he spreads his knees further.

“Oh fuck please Mr. Novak,” Dean gasped in desperation. His hole is slick from Mr. Novak’s tongue and by now his cock is starting to swell again. Every sensation is only made worse by those long fingers. Squeezing his eyes shut tight he tried not to think about his next words. Because they were dirty as hell. “I- I don’t need to be opened up that much,” he said quickly as he ducked his head in shame. “Me an- and Aaron-”

It’s like a switch flipped on his teacher. Before he can even finish his sentence he is being gripped by the back of his neck and hair, yanked up from the floor in one rough motion. “How often do you get fucked?” Mr. Novak demanded. His eyes were dark, black bleeding through the blue. Around him Dean’s vision blurred as he was, literally, picked up. He focused on his teacher as he stormed over to the desk with him pushing everything off his desk in one sweep. Around him he could hear the sound of papers falling to the floor and the crash of textbooks. There was glass shattering as Mr. Novak’s coffee spilled.

Why his teacher had gotten so pissed off was beyond Dean. They were just fucking weren’t they? Once this was over everything would go back to how it used to be. Instead Mr. Novak was full of rage. “I’m the only one who gets to have you,” he snarled in Dean’s ear. Mr. Novak’s hard cock is grinding against his ass. With a whine he went pliant as he was manhandled on the desk. The panties he wore are literally ripped in half and thrown aside.

Oh, oh fuck. Well he never thought Mr. Novak would be such a possessive mother fucker. ‘Specially since this was just a one time thing. Slick from his teacher’s tongue and his fingers Dean didn’t even feel the burn when he pushed in. Without warning Mr. Novak snapped his hips starting to fuck into him roughly. There was a muscular forearm wrapped around his throat; the pressure enough to make him keen in submission but not enough to choke him.

“I am going to make you forget this Aaron even existed,” Mr. Novak promised darkly in his ear and it’s a promise that curled Dean’s toes and made him shiver. Never before had he been more certain of anything. “And if he... he disappeared,” the older man continued as he thrust into him so hard the desk squeaked, “I would make sure you did not even care.”

It was a weird form of dirty talk. Though Dean was so high on the fucking pleasure and sparks he didn’t even care. Cock heavy between his thighs he can barely even manage to think as Mr. Novak hits a spot inside that has him whining. They can’t even see each other like this, with him laying flat on his stomach sprawled over the desk and his teacher behind him slamming in. Instead of being romantic or some shit it just felt like he is owned. The arm around his neck tightened as Mr. Novak’s thrusts become more and more frantic.

Being filled like this is freakin’ awesome. Without the cock in him he felt empty and needy, desperate in a way he couldn’t even describe. Now Dean was complete. A loud moan fell from his lips as he tried to fuck himself back on the cock. Immediately there’s a hand gripping tight in his hair along with the arm wrapped around his neck. It pulled the hair so tight that he tears burn in his eyes. Though in a fucked up way he liked it, liked the pain. Maybe that was why his balls were drawn up tight and swollen as hell.

“Do you need me that much, Dean? Where you can’t even sit still and you squirm on my cock?” Mr. Novak questioned in that deep voice of his, so close that he could feel stubble tickling the back of his neck. With a growl he pulled out before slamming back into him again. The pressure built in his thighs with every long, deep thrust.

Vision blurring Dean screamed out, or tried to. Instead a hand clamped over his mouth muffling how he howled. “I do, I need you so much. Fuck,” he groaned. With the hand over his mouth the words were barely audible.

“Shhh boy. You don’t want everyone to find out what a whore you are, do you? Getting fucked by your teacher over his desk,” Mr. Novak chuckled and his hips stuttered, before he stopped completely. “Tell me you will not scream,” he demanded as he began to move again. Every slow thrust was torture.

Face flushed a pretty, frantic shade of pink he could only throw back his head and moan. Like this he couldn’t come. All he could do was depend on his teacher and hope he would fuck him harder. 

And then with the tedious drags of Mr. Novak’s cock an idea came to Dean. “C’mon Mr. Novak,” he moaned, which wasn’t real difficult considering how turned on he was. “Aaron fucked me harder then this last night. I could hardly walk after him,” he told with a wicked grin. Something inside him screamed about how stupid of an idea it was, pissing off his teacher, but he didn’t care.

A sharp intake of breath. Not even five seconds later Mr. Novak was plowing into him, shoving his cock deep into his hole. The arm moved from his throat, instead his teacher gripped his hips on either side rough enough to leave black and blue bruises. In the quiet of the room he could hear the sound of the desk slamming hard against the wall and his teacher’s grunts.

Dean’s head spun and he let out a shaky gasp. Blood pumped through his veins faster and faster as he panted. “Th-that all you got sir? Ah. Aa-aron still fucked me better,” he managed to get out. Over his shoulder he tried to give his teacher a shit eating grin.

There was a snarl. “I am going to split you open on my cock, you little brat,” Mr. Novak breathed. _Grunt. Thrust. Grunt._

Oh. Dean was so fucking close now. Warmth spread up the tops of his thighs, and he felt all the tension in his body build and build. He was edging right on that high. If he could only-- “Can you,” Dean panted, “fuck me that good, old man?”

And that’s it. Mr. Novak is fucking gone. In the same second that he pulled out he turned Dean to face him or fucking yanked him really. His teacher hooked his arms around Dean’s thighs bringing them impossibly close. Balls slap against his ass and a hard cock filled him. His legs are spread wide. Mr. Novak is fucking into him relentlessly, pulling his orgasm out of him with brutal thrusts. When his vision blurred he knew he was going to spill all over this god damn desk. He could feel it in the heat of his stomach. Electricity charged his skin. A shudder ran through his body. He was gonna--

“No,” Mr. Novak growled, taking hold of his cock. “You do not deserve to.” Though his teacher was, cock hot inside him as he filled and filled Dean. It felt like five solid minutes that he was thoroughly claimed and made wet with Mr. Novak’s come. Fuck did he like that. Though he didn’t like being stopped.

About ready to open up his mouth to complain, maybe whine ‘cause this shit wasn’t fair he was cut off when teeth clamped down sinking into his skin. Mother fucker. That had to be the second time the older man had bit him. Except this time it hurt even worse, he could feel the mark throbbing. No- bleeding. He was literally bleeding from the bite. Tears pricked at the corner of his eyes and his cry was of course covered by Mr. Novak’s hand.

“Good boy,” he cooed. A finger was pressed to the wound and Mr. Novak smeared his lips with blood. Then to his complete surprise his teacher sucked his blood from his own finger. Those blue eyes were swallowed by dark black pupils and his upper lip was curled up in a smirk. “Mmmh. That was such a good, sweet boy,” he praised before running his fingers through Dean’s hair.

It was real fucking scary how much those words consumed Dean. All he knew was that no matter what, he had to hear it again.

* * *

Life was shit for Aaron Bass. Not only did he have to hide the fact he was gay from his hardcore religious parents, but they were constantly harassing him to accept the responsibility that would come with being a Rabbi when he graduated high school. This week though he was free to do whatever he wanted because his family was out of town on some important Jewish thing. And so he had. Aaron had a crush on Dean Winchester for years. He knew the kid was queer himself, knew that the sixteen year old boy had no problem hitting on boys as often as he had girls. Last night he met with Dean after practice and fucked him in the teen’s car, a ‘67 Chevy Impala.

Every time he thought back on it he felt wrong and sinful, though also so good. The tight heat around him when he fucked the boy... it was like a vice around his dick. And he could never forget how beautiful Dean was either. How his eyelashes fluttered when he thrust into him particularly hard, and the way his pretty green eyes glinted. It had been the ultimate fuck you to his parents. Even if they... didn’t know about it.

Now it was the next day, the following evening, and Aaron was still thinking back on the night as he sat in his living room. About half an hour ago he had ordered a pizza, so now he was just waiting on that as he flipped through different shows on his TV. Nothing seemed interesting. He just wished he could see Dean again. Maybe he could call him... No. It was too soon. He didn’t want to come across as a love struck idiot.

Just then the doorbell rang. Oh yeah, that was probably the pizza. Aaron tossed the remote on the couch and stood up. He still found himself thinking of Dean again as he walked to his front door. Man, this crush was getting out of hand. He couldn’t help it though. He just liked the younger boy so much. Since he was a senior he had even thought of inviting him to prom. If only his family hadn’t signed up as some of the supervisors.

Shaking his head he pulled out a twenty from his wallet and opened the door. “Hey dude, it’ll be fifteen right?” He asked with a smile.

Dark blue eyes looked back at him. Oh, hey. It was his old English teacher. Aaron blinked in surprise. “Mr. Novak, you deliver pizza too?” He asked. He started to go for his wallet again. After all, if the poor older man had to deal with being a pizza boy on top of teenagers all day he deserved a tip.

“Oh no,” Mr. Novak answered casually. Though his tone... the way he was standing, there was something creepy about it. And come to think of it, but he didn’t even think the guy had blinked yet. Weird.

Aaron was feeling a little uneasy. Though that was crazy. Why would a school teacher creep him out? “No... so you uh, you don’t deliver pizza...?” He trailed off, his voice hesitant as he looked back at the man.

His old teacher flashed a face full of teeth. Yeah, something was definitely wrong now. Aaron was starting to freak out. Something was seriously wrong with this guy. “Uh, Mr. Novak. I’m just gonna... give you the money now okay?” He said with caution. All of a sudden a hand grabbed out at him, and the next thing he knew he was being thrown hard to the floor. The pain shot up his side and his heart slammed frantically in his chest.

Mr. Novak was laughing. A wicked, full body laugh as he towered over him. His eyes were shining now with clear insanity. “This is going to be so much fun,” he chuckled. Oh god, oh god. Aaron was beyond freaking out. What the hell was going on? And shit, but his back hurt...

“I liked you, you were such a good student Mr. Bass,” The asshole said with glee. “But you did something very, very bad,” he sang as he stepped closer to him and swung out his leg, kicking him hard between the ribs. Aaron screamed from the pure agony. It hurt so much he felt dizzy.

“Ohhh Mr. Bass does mommy and daddy know you like cock?” Mr. Novak sneered, his face twisted into something nasty. Every word was said in a sing song tone that chilled him to the bone.

Swallowing hard Aaron stared up in shock at the man. “Ho-how d-do you know that?” He stuttered.

Mr. Novak hummed pulling a large, sharp knife out of nowhere that he looked at with a disgusting fondness. He licked the blade with his tongue. “Because you took something of mine,” he answered finally as he began to approach him with the knife. “And now,” he sang, “I am going to take something from you.”

Heart thumping hard in his chest Aaron watched horrified as the delirious man bent down. Their faces were only inches apart. The cool of the knife touched his stomach and something inside of him went cold. All he could do was accept that, that he... he was going to die. “What did I ever do to you?” He questioned desperately.

A pause. “You touched Dean Winchester.”

* * *

 

 

 


End file.
